


Composed of Steel

by thepologirl



Series: Composed of Steel [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Eragon (2006), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepologirl/pseuds/thepologirl
Summary: The story is set in the modern world: iPhone 7's are given to twelve-year-olds; the Avengers have splintered and reformed; James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes is on the uphill; and the Riders of Atlas are being formed by their Angel-Queen. Tony Stark, in a moment of brevity, sends said Angel-Queen an email(which he comes to regret later) asking if the Avengers could stay for a little, "just until they get back on their feet". Angel-Queen accepts, and here they are, a week later, interrupting (and getting interrupted midway through)the working of polo horses.The Angel-Queen is Isabella Hamon, and she's been hurt one too many times to trust anyone. Her director is not-and never has been-the kindest man. Richard Anslogg does-well, I won't spoil it for you, but he does something bad...something that may have broken his asset. In modern-day America, when something breaks, you don't fix it, you just get a new one.Bella will ultimately win-out(as all heroes should) and until then you're just going to have to enjoy the ride. And I'm certainly going to try to make it rollercoaster-esque for you.





	1. File Name; "Project Inconstructive"

**Author's Note:**

> Erm...this is my first fic, so all feedback is greatly appreciated.

**Isabella Grace Hamon ("Project Inconstrucive")**  
**Age: ** 17 as of 6/3/02  
**Gender: ** Female  
**Class: ** Weapon  
_"Deadliest asset yet. Has a sword specifically made out of diamond and Hamon's DNA-she can call for it on her own free will._

 _Unfortunately, she is a kind person, and will not kill unless absolutely necessary. We will be working on a solution for that immediately and will use Winter Soldier's chair as a way to administer the serum and force the trigger word programming."_ **~Mycroft Holmes**  
****Product of the British Intelligence Agency****  
**Director: ** Richard Anslogg  
**Kills: ** 79 (see page three for names/occupations)  
**Connections: ** Azrrules, no known family members  
**Enhancements: ** -perfect vision  
-increased telepathic ability  
-quicker reflexes  
-increased pain tolerance  
-photographic memory  
-ruthless under control  
-superhuman strength and agility  
**Last Mission: ** "Maylay Relay"  
**-status: ** completed  
**Last Known Location: ** arrived in Atlas 3/3/20 19:44:57  
**Relatives: ** Family is deceased. Died in a car crash 3/6/15. Three men saved Hamon, pulling her away from the wreck as her parents and sister burned alive. Bella is blamed for the crash and the death of the three in the news.  
**Important Notes:  **clinically depressed, suffers from severe PTSD, is not mentally stable, suffers severe night-terrors, sufferes from severe boughts of anorexia, hostile when threatening cared about-s, dysmorphic


	2. Tabula Rasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabula Rasa: an absence of preconceived notions or ideals; a clean slate

The steam rose up lazily from the horses below me, smothering my eyes and nose for a millisecond. It was cold in Atlas, though that was nothing unusual; West Virginia in the dead ass of winter wasn't usually above sixty, and it was hardly ever above fifty in the mountains. I started as the grinding of the stone post rang through the city, but the horses didn't even flinch, because that's what happened all day in Atlas, riders and their partners returning form drawn out missions, or worse.

'Worse' hadn't happened in years, though.

The horses flicked their ears and Mouse began to chomp at her bit when the shadow covered us, and I risked a glance upward. The black dragon hovered for another mere second, and then arched right and landed in the awaiting and designated pad. Imogen took off moments later, presumably to get her armour, spells, and saddle removed. We took another left turn toward the exit from the polo sector. Saragon swung her head toward the exit but we turned left on the track once again.

As we approached the trailer, I swung my leg over Mouse's back and dropped to the ground, before sliding my hand through Mouse's reigns and tying Saragon up, forcing the filly to raise her head. Mouse pinned her ears and swung her head at Boh, who nearly reared. "Girls!" Both mares immediately put dopey expressions on their faces at my reprimand, and a tug on Bohemia's halter had her moving to her spot in the line. I swung the reigns back over Mouse's head, our breaths making small clouds in the cold. My foot slid into the stirrup and I heaved myself into the saddle, the old leather squeaking in effort and protest.

My mare sighed as I turned her back to the field, and we stepped over the small wood boundary. I swung her around to the announcer's stand, where I'd hung my mallets up and snagged my fifty and the whip that hung on it. Mouse took a left and picked up a trot as I got situated, and the ball that lay on my nearside stayed there as we warmed up around the field. I urged Mouse into a canter, my mallet tapping the ball ahead of us until Mouse straightened out and we took off down the field.

The swing of the mallet was comforting to the both of us, and I could feel Mouse's movements become practiced and more akin to clockwork as the time passed. 

* * *

 

The ball flew through the goalposts and landed on the ground some five yards away where it splintered into pieces. Mouse was panting heavily beneath me, covered in sweat and steaming. "That's enough for today, _meine Geliebte_." I swung my legs back over Mouse, and she and I walked back to the trailer. I grabbed the clipboard hanging on the back, and glanced over the names of the horses yet to be worked. 

It was Friday, leaving me Saragon. Mouse nudged my back as if to say ' _c'mon lady, get this stuff off of me!_ ' and I laughed at my mare's antics, but obliged.

I was midway through switching the saddle over to Saragon when Ixora came over and placed it on Saragon's back, sliding the girth under her belly for me to grab. "The fuck do you want Ixora?" I pulled the girth up to the second hole on the billets and slid the draw-reign loop and the buckle of the breastplate on the other billet before attaching the girth to that one too, before pulling Saragon's halter off of her face and backed her up as Ixora trailed after me.

"You're late for the briefing."

I tightened the girth and pulled my helmet on before saying, "I told you I wasn't coming."

Ixora slid Saragon's reigns over her neck before replying; "It's mandatory."

" _Mandatory_ ," I repeated incredulously, tasting the word on my tongue. "It's bullshit is what it is! I don't want to hear the shit they have to say about me. Anslogg can't make me go."

Ixora sighed, and looked me in the eye as he said, "he can't make you go, no. But, he can punish you for not going."

"Bullshit! He's not a citizen, and even if he were, it wouldn't stand. There are elves, humans, riders, dragons, _dwarves_ , even, that'll back their queen," I spat.

Ixora sighed again. "Please don't let him do this to you."

I looked up, clenching my jaw. There was a group of people, the very ones that were supposed to be in the briefing room right now, about twenty feet away. "I need thirty minutes." Ixora sighed once more and nodded, before turning and walking away.

I watched him for a moment before riding up and grabbing his arm. "My mallet is on the viewing tower, so feel free to make yourselves comfortable." I nodded at him once, and whirled Saragon around and asked her for a canter.

She complied easily, and I smiled as we neared the stand. Saragon's coat gleamed a pale gold in the eleven o'clock light, curtosey of the cremello coat she carried. The mallet that I'd used on Mouse minutes earlier was hanging the same place I had left it, so I snatched it off of the chicken wire.

I tapped the ball that I had used on Budapest in a circle for a moment before popping it out twenty feet and urging Saragon into a gallop. Cranking my mallet up, I let it unwind, and the ball arched to the middle of the field, popping the ball out with my mallet when we reached it and cranked the shot again, sending the ball through the goal from about eighty yards out. The ball splintered upon hitting the ground, and I stopped Saragon before heading over to the viewing stand. I laughed at Ixora's annoyed expression, and he threw another ball out to the center of the field for me.

I worried the ball with my mallet for a moment and sent it to the far side of the field. Saragon leapt into a gallop at the touch of my spurs, and we were coming onto the ball quite quickly. At our angle, a nearside backshot would be the perfect play and that's what I did, rolling back to the right and leaping onto the new line, bouncing the ball off the boards for emphasis. Saragon kept her cool and I popped the ball in the air. It arched up and over to the nearside, and I tapped it again at Saragon's eye level. Saragon didn't even twitch her ear, and I kept this up all the way to the goal, and rolled it in. Saragon weaved around the post and we were off again, halfway down the field. before we reached the ball, I asked Saragon for a stop and tapped the ball once to my left before picking up a steady canter and bringing it to the left of the goal on my nearside before a neckshot sent it in. 

I popped the ball into the air and hit it up with my mallet, sending it down the field again, and a smooth full swing had it dead center in the goal. I hit an offside backshot toward the stand, turned on it, and Ixora whistled. I nailed it at the center post of the viewing stand, which was made of vibranium, and the ball broke in two.

"Seriously, Bella? We've only got three for tomorrow now!"

I laughed as I rode up to the stand and Ixora glared at me disapprovingly. "I've got a whole box in the trailer," I replied in-between laughs. 

"It's not funny."

I grinned up at him as Saragon stood patiently. "It's funny. Just because you're old doesn't mean that funny things aren't funny."

"Hilarious."

"Oh," I giggled a little bit, "you love it. Admit it."

Ixora rolled his eyes and I smiled again, because in truth, Ixora was just about my age when I'd found him and brought him to Imogen. We were two months apart, though Ixora acted surprisingly mature for an eighteen-year-old.

 


	3. Provenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Provenance: the beginning of something's existence; something's origin

"Keep your heads up," Ixora warned, "act like you belong. There shouldn't be anyone too suspicious."

I glanced over at the group of people. They were a bit ragtag; no-one would place them together in a crowd. I opened one of the double doors and Ixora opened the other. He nodded once at me and we both altered our clothing before materializing our armour and weapons over the top. My hair twisted itself up in two braids that ran along the sides of my face and into a large bun. 

Two large diamonds stuck out of the top of the bun and I pulled one out and down to reveal the small, thin blade that protruded from the gem. It was a weapon and a power source; something I had designed that every rider had to earn. Ixora's blades slid in and out of his shoulder padding, carefully concealed unless they were needed. "Stunning, as usual, your highness," Ixora smiled flirtatiously at me and I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder.  He acted very wounded, gasping and mock-sniffling. I headed to the front of the group and called Gwilith from it's scabbard, gripping the handle and testing the weight of it in my hand. 

I cleared my throat, calling the attention of the large group. "I need to ask two things of you all, and you do not have to agree. You are not yet citizens, so I hold no power over you. As soon as this meeting is finished, you will be brought to your living space and you can have until five o'clock tonight to unpack and get settled in.

"Before we enter this room, I need to look inside of your minds to check and make sure nobody has volatile intentions. Secondly, anything heard in this room cannot be repeated, is everyone is accordance?" Several seconds of head nodding later, I continued. "When you step up, give your name and clearance level."

A well-built blond man walked up to me. "Steve Rogers, Level eight."

"Captain, may I look inside your head?"

At his nod of affirmation, my fingers hovered over his temples as my gold-rimmed eyes closed.

* * *

 

The passer-by in the WIMA Above-Ground Headquarters nodded and murmured respectful phrases as they passed our entourage, several from my division. It wasn't until I caught on to the nearly inaudible giggle that I had realized how quiet it was. Suddenly, my legs were covered in a mass of blond ringlets, with two purple eyes poking out the centre.

"Auntie Bella! You're home! Mummy said it might still be a few days!" Caterina's excited cauterwauling caught the immediate attention of the almost frantic woman in armour, and the attention of Ixora. 

"Caterina! I thought that I'd lost you!" Anastasia's voice caused me to chuckle, and Ixora took a step forward, but hesitated.

I laughed, enjoying Ixora's dilemma. "Go! You haven't seen your wife in almost a month." Ixora, gratefully, bounded forward and pulled Ana in for a swooping hug and kiss.

"Disusting!" The little Brit below me was full of sass, and I nearly fell over from laughing. Cat poked her little head around my legs to stare up at the group of superhumans behind me. "Who are you?" Cat's bony little finger was pointed accusingly at poor Captain Rogers, who looked shocked by her dominaing nature. I twirled around and picked Caterina up off of the floor and held her upside down. She crossed her little arms, somehow still dignified, and glared harshly at the lot of them.

"Caterina, these are the Avengers. They'll be staying in Atlas for a while," I murmured gently, trying to placate the small girl. Capitan Rogers stuck his hand out for her to shake, introducing himself.

Cat shook his hand in an effort to appease the adults and reeled her attention back to me. "How long is 'a while'?"

"That's up to them. They are more than welcome for however long is necessary." Caterina's head whipped around to stare at her father, eyes narrowing slightly before turning once again to the group.

"Look, Mister, I get to spend time with my Mummy and Dad and Auntie in the afternoon, and Auntie teaches me on her ponies on Tuesday from three til' five. As long as I get to see my family then and ride the ponies then you can stay for the rest of your lives." Cat stared each and every member of the group down individually, unaware that most of the adults - including the three riders - were doing a poor job of stifling their laughter.

"Yes, Ma'am, Miss Cat," Capitan Rogers said, maintaining his composure enough to answer her. Cat hurumphed and wiggled in my embrace, plopping into a handstand as she lowered herself to the ground and stood up. Caterina grabbed Ana's hand and strutted to the doorway, pausing only for a small wave as the doors opened. 

The second the doors closed, Ixora and I laughed uncontrollably. I looked at Captain Rogers, still wheezing a bit, and flashed him a smile. "You are an absolute saint."

He blushed heavily, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. "No, ma'am, I'm not really a saint."

"Oh," Ixora said, chuckling, "you must be. She's only that mean to the ones she likes." 

Steve blushed harder. 

"Alright, I hate to be a killjoy, but we really must get moving."


End file.
